Cliffhanger
by OzGeek
Summary: Tony/McGee friendship story including: suspense, action, humor and a thin plot smear. 6 chapters. Story started as a response to an NFA skills workshop challenge to write suspense. Thanks to the McGee lovers at NFA for critic and encouragement.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It was all over before he knew it. One moment he was running for his life along the narrow earthen path, the next he was scrabbling for a handhold as the ground fell away beneath him, sending him plummeting down a near vertical drop.

Then, miraculously, three fingers on his right hand tangle themselves in a root.

He groaned in agony as the brunt of his body's full weight came to bear on his right arm, momentarily separating his shoulder joint. A cloud of angry dust reared up and filled his mouth with sour grit and he heard the ominous 'clack, clack, clack;' of his gun tripping its way down the rocky wall.

Gasping and coughing, he felt the root tendrils bite through his flesh. He desperately cycled his legs to regain stability as his body swung pendulously from its precarious anchor but the added angular momentum only succeeded in precessing him slowly until he found himself facing outwards from the cliff where he caught a glimpse of the far distant ground below. His stomach lurched.

Panic stricken, he focussed on the opposing tree-studded hillside while reaching behind with his free hand to claw at the ragged wall face. Great chunks of clay material traitorously crumbled at his touch, while thin knife-edged shale sliced his skin. Once he had managed to writhe his way to face the wall again, the fingers on his left hand frantically drilled into the rocky surface before him searching for any nook capable of supporting weight.

On the other hillside, he could hear voices yelling in malicious excitement accompanied by the snap of distant gunfire. He ducked his head uselessly as sharp chinks of dark slate sprayed his body.

The cries of his pursuers grew angry and frustrated. The bullets ceased and he heard feet pounding towards him as they homed in for the kill. Bloodlust tainted the air.

The fingers of his left hand mined the rocky wall again and found a ledge. Hardly daring to breath, he curled his exploratory fingers around the top edge and carefully transferred his weight from his throbbing right fingers. He stretched the tortured fingers on his right hand experimentally to regain some semblance of circulation before slowly wriggled them into a more stable position in the life saving roots. The sense of relief was almost overwhelming until, suddenly, the ledge gave way, snapping cleaning at its base forcing his weight back to his right hand with a mighty jerk.

"Hanging around?" The humourless jibe was a deathly precursor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A panicked cry escaped him. His head snapped up to reveal Tony, lying on his stomach for extra stability, reaching out to him from above. Adrenaline swelled; it still might be too late.

"Hurry, they're coming," he rasped.

"I know," Tony's voice was gruff under the strain as his strong hands slid down McGee's arms.

McGee felt Tony's right hand grab his left elbow and he responded in kind, encasing Tony's arm in a death grip, the like of which it might never recover. His legs fought to push against the wall but it disintegrated with each foot scrape.

He could hear the other voices very clearly now.

"Go Tony," he commanded, "leave me."

Tony's grasping became more urgent. "We go together, or not at all," he growled.

Another inch higher and McGee could swing one foot up to the path above. A few more inches and his knee was aboard and Tony grabbed at it pulling with every ounce of energy he possessed. McGee's muscles screamed as Tony heaved him the final distance over the lip of the cliff, his leverage leg agonisingly painful as it propelled him to safety.

"So how's that acrophobia thing going there, Probie?" Tony quipped through gritted teeth, pawing at him to rise to his feet.

Gunshots scuffed the earth around them sending them scampering across the path to the relative shelter of the large pine trees that covered the upper hillside.

They took a diagonal path through the densely populated forest, staggering against the decomposing pine needles which, at times, reached nearly a foot deep.

A bone weary numbness overcame McGee as he forced his recalcitrant body away from danger. It was all like a bad dream: he wanted to fly but in reality he was ploughing through molasses. Slowly, slowly his body ground to a halt, unable to go any further. He leant heavily against a tree, panting and dizzy. The world zoomed out of focus and his knees began to tremble tellingly. Off to his right and just behind, he could hear the voices of his predators.

"Com'on Probie," Tony was suddenly at his side.

He tried to speak but the world suddenly took a giddying turn and he found himself cradled in Tony's concerned arms as he slumped to a sitting position at the foot of the tree.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hit?" Tony demanded.

"What?"

"Your leg."

McGee inspected his protesting leg with mild interest and was surprised to see large splotches of blood soaked material.

"Oh," he said breathlessly, listing against Tony as his consciousness slipped.

The yelling in the forest was off to the left now: they were trapped.

McGee felt the world tilt as Tony laid him out on the ground.

"Looks like we're starting trench warfare," Tony noted.

McGee watched hazily as Tony frantically dug a ditch in the pine needle bed at the base of the tree.

"In, Probie," Tony urged, dragging McGee to the trench. "They'll walk in the open, not near the trees."

In moments McGee was lying flat on his back in his makeshift shallow grave. The groove was easily deep enough but not quite wide enough and Tony spent a few panicked moments digging out the residual brown leaves, clawing underneath McGee's body to make space.

Then came the moment McGee had been dreading. He closed his eyes against the sight but that could not save him from the sensation of being slowly buried alive: the taste of decaying vegetation, the tangy smell of pine, the thousands of tiny pin pricks that pierced his clothes. The mounds of compost slowly piled up against him then over him until, finally, he was submerged.

The footsteps were almost upon them.

"Where's your gun, Probie?"

"Gone."

"Damn."

McGee heard Tony check his weapon, muttering nervously to himself. "Six bullets, two guys, a double tap each and a couple of spares, what more do you need?" Then his voice grew serious. "Stay down, Probie. I'll be just over there."

"Where?"

But Tony was gone leaving him alone and vulnerable.

McGee's heart beat hard in his throat as he listened to the shifting sounds of the forest. He was terrified the rise and fall of his chest would attract attention. He hated being so helpless. A shuffle sounded near his feet, a footstep fell beside his head: someone must be less than a foot away from him.

Then the shooting broke out. Sharp cracks studded the air but he held himself frozen. He could be of no help to Tony now. Voices cried out, bodies thudded – and still he waited.

A stifling silence encased the forest. He felt a shoe nudge his head and caught the foul stench of whatever was caught in its tread.

"Nice to see you're already in your grave," the voice taunted.

Hot metal seared his forehead as a muzzle was pressed to his head through the pine needle veneer.

A single shot rang out across the countryside, its fierce sound dislodging wildlife from their homes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

McGee groaned as a sudden weight landed on his stomach.

"Man, I thought I already killed that guy," Tony whined. There was a click as he checked his gun. "Hey, a bullet to spare!"

The heavy body was rolled to one side, reliving McGee of his burden. The fresh air nipped his skin as Tony brushed the pine needles away from his face.

"How's the leg doing, Probie?" Tony's voice was full of uncharacteristic concern.

"Um, don't know."

"Let's have a look."

McGee felt Tony digging around at his legs then heard a sharp intake of breath. There was a pause. "It's not too bad."

"I thought you were an expert liar."

There was sullen laugh from Tony. "I'm going to have to bind that leg…" he muttered almost to himself. "Fortunately, our late friend here has a pen-knife on his bat belt and some nice clothing he no longer needs."

"Isn't that evidence, Tony," McGee reminded him.

"Not anymore."

McGee lay listening to the sounds of Tony ripping and tearing slices of material with the knife. Now that the immediate danger was over, he was starting to feel cold: really cold. An icy shiver started deep within his bones, vibrating the length of his body.

Tony stopped cutting. "He has a nice warm jacket, too."

McGee heard the Tony manhandling the body to remove the jacket. "Ducky is going to be annoyed with you."

"I'm sure he'd rather deal with two bodies rather than three, Probie," Tony pointed out.

McGee swallowed hard. It was true; the supplies on the other bodies might be the only thing that kept them alive through the night.

"Here," Tony was hauling him to a sitting position.

The world spun giddily and a bout of nausea swirled through him. In moments, he was lying down again with the jacket zipped up securely. Slowly, the world evened out. "That was quick," he remarked.

"It would have seemed longer if you had been conscious," said Tony distractedly, starting to tie strips of cloth around McGee's leg.

McGee was rattled: a chunk of his life was missing and he didn't even know it was gone.

"Here," Tony waved a canteen of water in his face, "our friends brought water too: so considerate."

McGee took the bottle and sipped carefully as Tony wrapped his leg. The fingers on his right hand began to throb and he flicked them up for a quick inspection. His stomach turned at the sight of ripped flesh across his fingers, sliced by the life saving roots. "Ah, Tony."

"Yep," Tony replied, concentrating on binding McGee's leg.

"Could you save some of that for my fingers?"

"What?" Tony looked up suddenly. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the digits McGee was holding up.

"Got to stop chewing those nails, Probie," he said dryly. "I'll get to them in a moment, these are still bleeding."

McGee sighed miserably and cradled his fingers on his chest. His leg hurt, his hand hurt, he felt sick and dizzy. He couldn't even sit without passing out. More than anything, he just wanted this all to be over.

"Leg all done, Probie," said Tony finally, sitting back on his heels. "I'll be back in a minute."

McGee watched as Tony disappeared from sight. For a full minute nothing happened and the panic began to rise in his throat. Then Tony was back with another jacket. "Here," he said tucking the second coat around McGee's legs. "Courtesy of second dead guy."

"Thanks," McGee stuttered through chattering teeth.

"Let's look at those fingers."

McGee watched Tony's concerned eyes as he held his hand, scowling at the injuries. The physical contact was comforting, though he would never tell Tony that he liked him holding his hand.

Tony sloshed some water over the cuts to wash out some stubborn debris then bound the hand with his last piece of cloth. The light was starting to fade as he tucked in the last edge.

"Now stay here, Probie," Tony instructed, pointlessly. "I need to get us some help."

"Don't leave me!" McGee shut his mouth but it was too late: the panicked squeak was already out in the wild.

"Probie," Tony's voice was stern and pragmatic. "You've lost a bit of blood, you've shredded your fingers but let's face it: we have water and no one is trying to kill you anymore. It's getting late; I have a cell but no reception. The sooner I get help here, the sooner this whole nightmare ends."

McGee swallowed, embarrassed by his own outburst. He could feel the colour rise up his cheeks and wished the blood would go back to his brain where it was actually needed. "Sorry."

"Besides, if worse comes to worst…" Tony grinned, "I've still got one last bullet for you."

"Thanks."

Tony took a deep breath and gave McGee a tight smile. "I'll be back before you know it, kid." He struggled to his feet and checked his cell. "Don't you go running off, now," he warned.

"Ha," came McGee's hollow response.

Then he was gone, leaving McGee mummified and entombed in pine needles. The light slowly dimmed around him and the bird sounds diminished and died. A hushed silence pressed upon him. The pine branch claws hovering above his head merged into the darkness but he could still smell the sharp pine scent. Soon there was no light and I became impossible to tell if his eyes were open or closed.

Suddenly he was trapped, buried alive. He woke in a panic and realised he had been sleeping. Tony still wasn't back and he had no idea how much time had passed since he'd left. He tried to sit but a tidal wave of dizziness knocked him back.

Panting in the darkness, he tried a tentative call, "Tony?"

Nothing.

Possibilities assaulted him from all sides: maybe Tony was lost, maybe he had fallen, maybe he was lying injured somewhere..

He pushed his palms flat on the ground and attempted to raise himself again. A great wave of dizziness swelled over him and he was flat on his back again. He swore.

He closed his eyes and strained his ears, willing them to acquire super-human abilities: Nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Warning - minor reference to Leap of Faith but nothing plot related.

**Chapter 4**

"Help's on the way, Probie."

McGee started awake again. The moon was out and he could see Tony's silluette hunched against the trees. A calm settled over him and he finally felt warm and comfortable.

"Do you want one of these jackets," he asked sleepily, suddenly aware of Tony's position.

"I'll survive, Probie," said Tony gently. "They'll be here soon." There was an awkward pause, then Tony started again. "Probie?"

"Hmmm?"

"You didn't profess your love to me."

"Hmm, what?"

"When you saved my life when I was hanging off a cliff, I said I loved you. I save you and nothing!"

"I was busy running for my life on a gunshot wound, Tony."

"Well, you're not now. So…"

"So?"

"Not even a thank you? I risked my life for you!"

"Thank you for saving my life Tony."

"Don't mention it."

A light clicked on in McGee's memory. "What did you say?"

"Don't mention it, that's what friends do for each other. You don't have to go and make a fuss."

"Tony, that's it!" McGee struggled to sit again and again the world slid out from under him.

Tony was gripping his shoulders trying to force him flat. "You can tell me while lying down."

McGee heaved an exasperated sigh. "They said, 'don't mention it.' They were talking about the robbery. The stuff is stashed in the forest. It's somewhere around here."

"We'll look for it after you've gone to the hospital."

"No, no, no, listen," McGee pleaded as images assaulted him from all sides.

Until then, his life before the race down the narrow earthen path with was curtained off from view: his entire history torn from his mind while he fought to survive. Now help was on the way, his memory's floodgates opened. He saw the cabin again. He was pressed up against the grimy brown window peering through at a meeting. There was a map on the wall. He strained to hear the conversation while praying that Tony would find him. He was startled momentarily by a sound in the trees but it was nothing. Returning his attention to the window, he came eye to eye with one of the men inside. The last words he heard were, "don't mention it". Then he ran.

"They were all talking in a cabin," he began slowly. "There was a map on the wall. I saw it, Tony. They hid the Navy stuff in a cave near a waterfall there's a historic tree nearby. It was south-east in the park. We've got to find it…"

"Not you, Probie."

"But they'll be gone," McGee's voice was fading now the urgent edge had been blunted.

"They're dead now, Probie," Tony reminded him gently. "I shot them both."

"But there were five of them," McGee whispered.

Tony froze and scanned the darkness a little more closely. "Wait until the others get here. It won't be long."

He looked down but McGee was already asleep again.

* * *

McGee squinted as a harsh light blinded him.

"It's alright, Timothy," he heard Ducky's comforting voice. "I'm just checking your leg. Hmmmm….and fingers?"

McGee found himself melting into sleep again as Ducky raised his leaden hand.

Suddenly he heard Ducky's loud "hurumph" in the distance; he must have dozed off again.

Ducky sounded exasperated. "Are you telling me,that this man chased you with one leg of his pants missing?"

"Ah…no," Tony said.

"And that they both generously gave up their jackets before dying?"

"Not really."

"So you moved both the bodies just to render first aid to McGee?"

"That pretty much sums it up."

"Good job Anthony," said Ducky admiringly. "You probably saved his life."

"Where's the ambulance?"

"Still making their way up the road I imagine. With Gibbs driving the squad car and Ziva driving my van, there was no way they were going to beat us, sirens or no sirens."

"How are you, McGee?" McGee looked up suddenly to see Ziva hovering overhead.

"Ahh, fine so long as I don't get up."

"Tony has bound this up well. What did he use?"

"He found a pen knife on one of the guy's belt and used it to rip up his pants."

"He's a regular McGiva."

"That's MacGyver," Tony corrected, appearing at her side. "McGiva sounds like your mutant MorphPro offspring."

They heard the distant sound of a van pulling up.

"That must be the ambulance," Ziva surmised.

"About time," Tony replied.

Suddenly the world was alive with lighting that transformed night into day.

"Are you the FBI agent who solved the Navy robbery?" a reporter yelled at Tony thrusting a microphone halfway down his tonsils.

"Boss?"

"What the….?" Gibbs' growl reverberated through the woods.

"Sir!" the microphone swung in Gibbs' direction. "What part did you play in this?"

Gibbs glared at her and stalked off to find Ducky.

Finally the ambulance pulled up. The EMTs approached McGee, trailing reporters and camera teams.

McGee closed his eyes and held his breath as rough hands heaved him out of his well-worn trench and dumped him on a stretcher. Even so, the lights burned through his eyelids and torched his retinas.

"Get them out of here," he heard Gibbs yell.

"But leave their lights," Ducky pleaded. "I've never had such good night coverage."

"Tony!" yelled Gibbs.

"Boss?"

"Go too."

"But boss."

"Go, get checked out for hypothermia."

* * *

"How did they know, Tony," asked McGee as the ambulance crept slowly down the blackened mountain track.

"Probably scanned us. I called Gibbs, he called the LEOs – bingo."

"Did you tell Gibbs about the location - the cabin?"

"Yeah, the boss knows. It's in good hands now. Just rest, Probie"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"We were on the late news last night, Probie." Tony remarked, glancing through the newspaper from his chair beside McGee's hospital bed. "You looked terrible by the way: they zoomed in on your face. Scary stuff."

"Sorry," McGee apologised distractedly.

McGee was sitting on his bed struggling to insert his right foot into his pants. The inch thick bandage which encased the associated leg from thigh to heel made the job hard enough but doing it one handed rendered the task almost impossible.

The fingers of his right hand were bound into a miniature badminton racquet with only his thumb enjoying freedom. After considerable effort, he gave up and threw himself back on the pillow in exhaustion with his pants leg only up to his knee.

"We also made page 9 of the paper, look!" said Tony, oblivious to McGee's marathon battle. He hung the paper in mid air above McGee's face so he could appreciate the fuzzy grey image. "See: that slab thing there is you. And see that hand there? That's me."

"You sure that's not Ducky's ha…"

"It's mine," Tony assured him forcefully, snatching the paper away.

"OK," McGee surrendered. "What does it say?"

"FBI agents were assisted by two members of an unknown federal agency in the recovery of stolen Navy property."

McGee began to thread his good leg through his pants and was rewarded with immediate success. His motivation re-kindled, he lay flat on the bed and hauled the pants to his waist one-handed.

Tony scanned down the article. "Bad guys killed at the scene, yada, yada, yada. Apparently you were gunned down by the gang and didn't make it. You're looking pretty good for a dead guy."

"I'm not dead," McGee huffed, finally securing his pants. "I'm a proud member of the UFA: Unknown Federal Agency."

"Do they pay better than our lot?"

"Yep, and their dental is better."

McGee carefully eased himself off the bed and started hunting for his shoes.

Tony scoffed lightly. "Apparently a 'passing elderly gentleman helped in recovering your body.' "

McGee looked up with a grin on his face and a shoe in his hand. "Ducky's going to kill them."

"Or Gibbs, ooooph! Hi boss, we were just talking about Ducky."

Gibbs glared at the paper. "That's the story we're sticking to."

"What!" There was a solid thump as McGee overbalanced on his single-shod foot.

"No names, no faces," Gibbs confirmed.

"But boss," McGee's head popped up and peered over the top of the bed, "we were on the news and they saw my face through the window."

"And now you are dead, live with it."

"Ahhh, OK," said McGee uncertainly, retrieving his second shoe and returning to his seat on the bed. "But… Tony said they showed my face on the TV report. They could scan it and match it to the NCIS database then trace my home details."

"That's a secure intranet, McGee," Gibbs assured him.

"Boss, I've hacked the White House, the FBI, the DMV…."

"Which is why we've had your file temporarily removed from the NCIS network and we're sending you two to a safe house."

"A safe house!" Tony exclaimed excitedly. "It's just like..."

"There's probably some trace left in memory somewhere," McGee cut him off. "Are you sure they cleaned up after they…."

"I got Abby to do it."

McGee's shoulders sagged a little in relief. She was the only person he would trust, other than himself, to get the job done properly. He turned his attention to attempting to tie his shoe laces one handed.

Gibbs heaved himself onto a seat next to Tony. "The Navy sends its thanks."

"Is there a reward?" Tony asked hopefully.

Gibbs raised a cynical eyebrow. "Same as always."

"Damn!"

"Here are the details of your safe house," said Gibbs handing over a small buff colored envelope. "Only you two and your contact know the details. Everything is inside."

Tony accepted the envelope and ripped it open.

"And I'll need both your cells," Gibbs continued. "We don't want someone tracking you. There's a cell in there."

"This isn't a cell phone," Tony complained, fingering through the contents of the envelope. "It's a brick. You ready yet, Probie?"

McGee glared at him under lowered eyebrows and indicated his loose shoe laces lying laxly atop his sneakers.

Tony heaved an exasperated sigh. "Do I have to do everything for you, Probie?"

A minutes shoe tying later, Tony sprung up. "Now?"

"Yes."

McGee tottered to the wall and collected a pair of crutches. He then tried to configure them for one good hand and one thumb and badminton bat.

"Let's go then," Tony urged, walking out the door.

There was a clutter as McGee's crutches collapsed to the floor and a thump a moment later as he followed them down.

Gibbs hauled him to his feet and thrust a single crutch under his good arm. "Hop," he suggested, "and don't talk to anyone about the case."

"Can we still drop by our places to pick up some stuff?" McGee asked. "There's a speech I've been working on."

"Make it quick."

* * *

"Do you think it is wise leaving the two of them together like that?" asked Ziva as Gibbs stepped off the elevator into the squad room.

"I'm sure there's a movie that will give us the answer," Gibbs replied as his cell rang. Frowning as he read the caller ID, he stabbed the pickup button. "What's wrong, Tobias? Not enough publicity?" At the curt reply, his expression hardened. "Damn it!"

He hung up and called a new number, pushing the buttons deliberately. He waited for the pickup but it never came.

"Damn," he swore again. "With me David," he called tuning to the elevator again.

Ziva hurried to collect her things before the elevator doors opened.

"What has happened?"

"McGee's publisher's office was raided last night," Gibbs explained. "They know where he lives."


	6. Chapter 6

You didn't really expect me to keep it serious forever, did you?

**Chapter 6**

"C'mon, McGee," Tony called impatiently, standing outside McGee's apartment door, fidgeting with Gibbs' safe-house envelope.

Hobbling painfully down the corridor, McGee glowered at Tony. Less than 24 hours before he had been lying in a ditch contemplating imminent death. Since then he had endured a blood transfusion, some doctor in enormous gum boots digging out pieces of metal from his leg while listing to children's CDs ('catchy, aren't they?'), a few hours of 'sleep' on a 1 foot wide, 1 inch thick, 5 ft long gym-mattress of a hospital bed and now he was expected to break the overland speed record on one leg.

He staggered to a halt at his front door. "Look, Tony," he began, low and dangerous, "I've had a bad day, I hurt and I'm going as fast as I can. Lay off me or I'll stick this crutch where it will do the most damage."

Tony was taken aback at McGee's tone. Reigning in the excitement of the past day and the thrill of the promised safe house lodgings, he took a moment to examine the wilted man in front of him. He looked dead on his feet and yet he had uttered not one word of complaint. Tony's shoulders sagged a little. "Hey, I'm sorry, man. I guess I've been a little, over-stimulated."

McGee's expression indicated his agreement. He pushed past Tony and inserted the key in his lock.

"Let me get that for you," Tony offered.

Tucking the treasured envelope under one arm, he overtook McGee and held the door open. "Just take it easy, go as slow as you like. Tell you what, why don't you just lie down and I'll..."

Suddenly he tackled McGee to the ground, riding him like a toboggan into the kitchen as they slid across the wooden floor. The crutch, wrenched from its owner, became wedged in the front door, jamming it open. A bullet chipped a splinter from the door frame.

"Tony!" McGee gasped before a hand was slapped over his mouth.

"Told you he wasn't dead," said a voice in McGee's apartment.

Lying on the floor over by the door, the cell in the envelope began to ring then fell silent.

Tony slid carefully off McGee and crept to the kitchen counter, raising his gun slowly. McGee slithered commando style across the floor to the corner cupboards and balanced himself on his good leg with his gun prepped, bracing his back against the corner to keep his balance.

Tony popped his head above the counter and ducked as a shot whistled past. It was risky but worth it: his brief reconnaissance had revealed two men standing behind the bookshelves that served as a room divider in McGee's apartment. He signalled silently to McGee with his fingers: two people and their directions in the room.

McGee nodded and steeled himself for action.

Tony counted them in: one, two…

Both agents exposed themselves simultaneously and fired in the direction of the bookcase. Answering shots fired back and ricocheted around the room. Then suddenly a third man appeared from the bedroom and joined in.

"Whoa," Tony and McGee called together, ducking back below the counter to re-think their plan.

"This wouldn't happen if you had DVDs in those shelves," Tony rasped, checking his clip.

"Yeah," McGee agreed, checking his own weapon. "Books absorb bullets really well."

"But those dusty old records don't."

"Don't aim at my records!"

"He was using them as a shield."

"No he wasn't!."

"McGee!" intruded an angry new voice from the front door.

A volley of shots exploded around the room like a renegade Mexican wave and McGee and Tony were joined in the kitchen by a very surprised looking man.

"I'm guessing all that noise wasn't from your shredder," surmised McGee's neighbour as he crawled over to Tony.

"Who are you?" Tony demanded.

"Oh, hi: Jordon Block, McGee's neighbour." He held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you Jordon Block," Tony replied. "You wouldn't happen to have a gun on you would you?"

"Why do you think I was coming here?" Jordon replied digging a gun out of his pocket.

"What!" cried McGee.

"Look, McGee," Jordon explained. "I've got a hot date tonight. That shredder has ruined my life for the last time."

"Can you shoot?" asked Tony.

"I've been practising on the target range everyday for a month."

Tony weighed up the information and judged it favourable. "OK."

In the distance, they could hear people shuffling around McGee's writing area. Then there was the sound of McGee's desk being turned on its side and his typewriter smashing against the floorboards.

McGee cringed.

"Did they crush the shredder?" asked Jordon hopefully.

McGee shot him an evil look.

"Give me cover," Tony whispered. "I'm going for the cell."

He crawled to the pillar that defined the entrance to the small kitchen and reached out a hand in the direction of the envelope.

Another round of gunshots began, the majority of which were aimed in Tony's direction, forcing him to retreat.

"This is getting us nowhere," Tony lamented as they all stopped to reload.

"Yeah, that blasted shredder is still standing," Jordon agreed.

"Will you forget about my shredder," McGee growled. "You heard gunshots!"

"Well, sure: today it was gunshots but what about last night and the night before and the night before that. I haven't slept in a month. I'm a man on the edge, McGee."

"Maybe you'd like to swap sides," offered a voice from the far end of the room.

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm sorry," McGee apologised. "I've got a big book launching coming up and I had to write a speech and, well, it never quite seemed right."

"Ever heard of liquid paper?"

"Will you two stop it?" Tony said in exasperation. "We've got to get to that cell."

"I've got a cell," said Jordon.

Tony rolled his eyes. "You could have mentioned that earlier."

"Someone was shooting at me!"

"Give," Tony demanded.

Jordon handed it over sheepishly. "If you don't think someone has called the police by now…," he pointed out.

"Not calling the police."

Gibbs' ring tone echoed in the corridor outside McGee's apartment causing Tony and McGee to exchange relived smiles.

"That's the sound of our re-enforcements just outside the door," Tony called out.

They heard the men scuttling around.

"They're heading out the window," McGee called, leaning out to shoot again.

The three kitchen dwellers fired at the retreating backs as they disappeared and were joined almost immediately by Gibbs and Ziva. Together the group left the kitchen and approached the escape route.

"They won't get far," Gibbs said. "We didn't come alone."

Looking out the window they saw the road completely jammed with police cars.

"How did they find me?" asked McGee.

"From your publisher's web site," said Gibbs.

"So they matched the TV report image to the picture published on Lyndi's website and…hold on, that would take forever without a targeted search…" McGee frowned, puzzled.

"Unless someone was having a book launch and had his pen name and face plastered all over the windows of the local bookshops," Gibbs prompted.

"Ah, um, oops."

"So once they had the image from the TV, they only had to search for your pen name to find your publisher. She has a great bio on how you work for NCIS."

"So let me get this straight McGee," Tony began, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the tips of his fingers against his forehead. "You worry about us removing your picture from the secure NCIS internal database. Meanwhile you post autographed pictures of yourself over the streets."

"Well, yes, I guess."

Tony shook his head in disbelief.

"You don't have to live with him," Jordon pointed out.

Tony patted Jordon on the back in consolation and the five of them went back to watching the men outside being led away.

"You know," McGee sighed finally as the last of the police cars pulled away, "we didn't hit a single one of them: missed every target."

"You maybe," Jordon smiled contentedly, patting McGee's bullet-ridden shredder. "I've spent a month aiming at a picture of this thing."

---------------------------------------------The end-------------------------------------------

Next up - valentines fluff


End file.
